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I Cry Alone
Talk to me again,
You wouldn't see the real me
Instead you'll see a picture
Of who I want to be
No one wants to know
To see the real Li
To see the me I keep inside
Smothered gently.
So many want to discover
Yet they all eventually fail
They flee the minute when
The real me prevails.
So many good friends I have
But which few really care
When I break down and lose my nerve
Which few will still be there?
So far it's been
A healthy number of none
I mend my own wounds, see?
I'm the only one.
When I finally go insane
When I finally cry
There's no one there; they've all gone home
In spite of me I cry alone
It hurts more when it's that way
But it feels better, really, by the next day
When I smile yet again
With my friends, I keep away the pain.
Undeniably this really is how it's gonna be
I might wail and I might moan
But maybe it'll be much better
If I cry alone.
---
Note: I make a point not to keep best friends. In fact, even now (2002) I'm
not part of a 'clique'. In my school, people there are part of a huge cake. Take a knife
and cut slices of the cake in varying sizes, and you've got the school's idea of friends.
It has its advantages and disadvantages though, but I refuse to throw myself into one and
exclude the others. I try bridging them together by having conversations with members of
different cake slices, together. On some days the effort pays off tremendously.
Back when I wrote this I was still insecure of my identity, I just knew cliques wouldn't
help me find it. Nowadays though (late 2002) I'm definitely more secure, I definitely know
me. This poem was written on May 10 2000.